“All right!” Lucy replied.
He remembered how Mme. Van Der Dokjen was wont to reply to the requests or commands of her elders. “You must be assured, Hon’d Sir, of my pleasure in conforming to y’r lightest wish.” “All right!” That was the modern way. He sighed.
“And now your dinner’s ready,” Lucy announced. “Something awfully nice, too.”
He sighed no more. These meals which Cousin Winnie and her child prepared for him were charming; he had never enjoyed anything more. They had the real old-fashioned homeliness; plain food, but beautifully cooked, and plenty of it. Cousin Ronald had spent his life in modest hotels; and this was his first experience, since childhood, of home life.
“You have been here one month to-day, Cousin Winnie,” he remarked, as he finished his fried chicken. “I must thank you. It has been—for me, that is—a most delightful month.”
“I’m sure, Cousin Ronald, it has been a pleasure,” said Cousin Winnie. Tears came into her eyes. It was so touching to see Cousin Ronald grateful.
By common consent they omitted Lucy from the compliments. Like most persons of middle-age, they knew that it is not wise to praise the young; they remember what you say, and use it against you later on. Cousin Ronald knew this by instinct, but Cousin Winnie knew from experience.
She was a thin, worn little lady, with a gentle and pretty face. It was the general opinion in the family that she had been the helpless victim of a cruel fate, and certainly she had had many undeserved misfortunes. But she had survived them. She[Pg 421] had kept upon the surface of the stormy sea, like a cork. She could stand a good deal.
This was a good thing, for fresh trials were approaching.